Targets
by Morello
Summary: Reno and Rude discuss Rude's selective battle strategy outside Gongaga, and don't discuss other things.


**This takes place just after Reno and Rude fight the Avalanche party outside Gongaga. **

**Targets**

"What the hell was that?"

Still reeling from Strife's last onslaught, blood from the cut on his temple running into his left eye, it takes Rude a moment to realise that Reno's angry. Strike that – Reno's furious. He doesn't look at Rude - only takes out a blue plastic vial of potion and throws it in his partner's direction, before ripping the seal off another and swallowing it himself. It's only then that Rude notices the gash across Reno's shoulder, blood seeping darkly into the blue fabric of his uniform jacket.

"You okay?" Rude asks.

"Yeah – will be now," replies Reno curtly. "You?"

"Okay."

Reno turns blazing eyes on his partner. "Yeah? Well, that's down to luck. What happened to 'don't worry, I'll do my job'?"

Rude looks away.

"The last thing I said to you beforehand – You did hear me, right?"

"Yeah."

"_Don't go easy on them_ – didn't I say that?"

"You did."

"You denying you never touched Lockheart? Never even _tried_?"

"No, but –"

Reno crosses to where Rude sits, leaning against the trunk of a tree. He stands looking down at Rude, still seething. "But _what_?"

"But – she's – I mean, fighting her – it don't feel right –"

"It don't feel right!" Reno explodes. "It don't _feel_ right? Shit, Rude, we don't pick the targets! What – every time I'm not one hundred percent happy with a mission, you think I should go bitchin' to Tseng about how it _don't feel right, _and let someone else do it for me?"

Rude says nothing, but Reno isn't taking silence for an answer - not this time. "Come on Rude! Talk to me. Is that how it goes? If we don't like it – if it don't feel right – you think we should just walk away?"

Reno waits, but Rude doesn't answer.

"Tell me!" Reno insists. "Is that really what you think? Is that what you think I shoulda – what we should do?"

Rude looks up sharply at the verbal stumble. He gets to his feet, frowning a little. "Let me look at your shoulder."

Reno stares at him, still simmering. "It's fine."

"It's not fine. On top of the other wound –"

"That potion –"

"Potion's not enough. It needs stitches. You should've had more time off – if there'd been anyone else… You need a bandage at least." Rude takes the small first aid kit out of his jacket pocket and tears open a packet containing a sterile dressing. "Sit down and take your shirt off."

Reno mutters something about fussing, but does as he's told. Rude cleans the wound and applies the dressing. Without looking at Reno's face he says, "You're right. Just because Tifa's – I shouldn't let that matter. Like you said, we don't pick the targets."

"We're Turks."

Rude unrolls a clean bandage over the dressing, across Reno's shoulder and around his torso. Reno watches his partner's sure, methodical progress for a moment, before he adds, "We get the job done – no matter what."

"Yeah," Rude agrees, moving behind him to fasten the bandage.

Beneath his hands, Rude feels Reno's shoulders relax as he exhales. Reno puts his shirt back on, fastening three out of six buttons, and picks up his jacket. His tone is severe as he says, "Right. So next time – do your job."

"I will."

"I will _what_?"

It's so rare for Reno to pull rank that at first Rude doesn't understand what he means, but when he realises he straightens smartly. "I will, Sir."

Reno nods. "Okay then. We should get back and report." He stands, shrugging on his jacket and brushing it down, then heads back along the path in the direction of Gongaga village.

Rude follows him, thinking about how many kinds of wrong Reno's last mission must have felt, and knowing that the words they've already spoken are the closest they'll ever get to talking about it. Instead he says, "_We may be retreating, but we're still victorious?_ Seriously?"

Reno grins then, glancing back over his shoulder, almost sheepish. "Yeah, yeah. Had to say something. Can't let them go thinking they got the Turks on the ropes, yo!"

"Huh," Rude concurs, and the two Turks continue on their way, neither of them feeling any further need to interrupt the settling silence.


End file.
